


Never Feels Real When They're Gone

by blackfin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Gen, If you have, T A T)9, also very big spoilers for the end of the game, if you have not played ffxv through all the way, just a shit ton of angst, reading the thing, that's about it, then would not advise, then you know why this is tagged the way it is, to the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:33:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackfin/pseuds/blackfin
Summary: The first step to moving on after you lose someone is to cry the storm out of your heart. Iris would have had to have been told eventually and it's only the right that it is the King's closest, most dear of friends are the ones who give her the news.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think the chocobros nor anyone really would have known right off the bat that Noctis would return one day and would have thought him dead so I, for whatever reason, decided to write about that (and hopefully the getting over it / moving on process but who knows T A T)9)

Her brother came back with blood dripping from his knuckles. 

Without a word or even a glance in her direction, he disappeared upstairs, his face darker than she had ever seen it and a terrifyingly tense atmosphere about him. She looked to Prompto, to Ignis for answers but what she saw in their faces only scared her even more. 

Prompto was crying but even more disturbingly, so was Ignis. It was a quieter, more dignified type of crying than Prompto’s, who’s entire face was beet red and covered in all kinds of fluids that dripped from his chin, slid down his slender throat and coated the backs of his hands. Ignis’s face was still, paler than she had ever seen it, the newly formed scar around his eyes standing out in harsh contrast. He wasn’t wearing his glasses so the tears brimming at the corners of his eyes and streaming down his cheeks were completely visible. 

Prompto was louder, his chest hitching with each pronounced sob, hands moving awkwardly to grip hold of the front of his shirt, the hem of his pants, shoved into his pockets before tugging at his hair then repeating the pattern over and over again as his shoulders bounced with the force of his crying. He strode too and fro, his bloodshot eyes darting around the room as though he was searching desperately for something. Ignis was still, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched, his hands clenched into fists at his side, the slight hitching of his chest visible only if she paid very close attention. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. All she had to do was take in the fact that the fourth, and arguably most important, member of the ragtag team of merry men who had set off to save the world wasn’t there. The prince of awkward, the sleepy prince, the too be king hadn’t returned with the others. And given there were no smiles, no shouts of victory, nothing more than silence broken only by the sound of Prompto gasping in between sobs, his feet shuffling across the wooden floor, and the tears running down the face of a man she had always thought would never cry in front of others was more than enough to tell her what had happened. 

Still, she couldn’t stop herself. In her numb, blank mind, there was nothing more than a screaming voice chanting ‘nothing’s wrong! nothing’s wrong! nothing’s wrong!’ but instinct, intuition were a bitch to convince otherwise. As ice spread from the center her chest, down to her stomach and all the way down her legs, she swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in her mouth, pulled in a deep breath and asked in a weak, trembling voice that couldn’t possibly be her’s, “Where Noctis?”

It was as though someone had attached a string to the center of Ignis’s chest; the moment the words had left her mouth, someone had given it a harsh tug. The top of his body bowed, his chin dropping as his shoulders began to visibly tremble. Behind him, Prompto came to a sudden stop, his teeth clenched in an anguished snarl, his eyes scrunched shut, his body hunched over as though he were trying to curl into himself. 

“I’m sorry.” Ignis rasped, his voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, Iris. We.....we failed.”

A hand smashed into her chest, wrapped around her heart and squeezed with enough force to make her gasp. Scalding hot tears welled up in her eyes, quickly spilling over to fall down her cheeks. Her bottom lip began to tremble as she struggled to get air in. Almost without thought, she took a step backwards, away from them, away from the news they brought, away from what they were telling her. 

“No.” She muttered, her teeth clenched. “No, no, no, no.”

Turning, she clumsily walked to the stairs, grabbed the stair railing before launching herself up towards the bedroom where they had spent so many evenings, talking about battle strategies, what they would do when the war was over and when Insomnia was won, how they would rebuild, how they would rebuild their dreams. Grabbing hold of the doorknob, she threw the door open, stepped in and choked out, “Where’s Noctis?”

Her brother was sitting on the end of one of the beds, a small pool of blood between his feet. His bruised, bloody hands hung uselessly between his knees. His head was bowed so low that his chin was resting against his chest. There were no tears on his face, no sign of anything - no grief, no remorse, no anger. Just a blank, unyielding expression that somehow managed to terrify her even more. Gasping, sobbing, she stumbled over to her brother, reached down to grab tightly hold of one of his hands and begged, “Please, Gladdy! Please tell me it’s not true! Please tell me that he’s okay! That he’s fine! Tell me this is a joke!”

Very slowly, her brother lifted his head to look at her. From a distance, she hadn’t been able to tell but now that she was close, she realized that there were tears in his eyes and a look of utter helplessness on his face. Without a word, he reached out, wrapped his arms around her and did something he hadn’t done since she was a young child: pulled her into a tight, unyielding embrace. Her cheek was pressed firmly against his shoulder, she could feel his cheek smushed against the back of her head and as they settled into what was honestly an uncomfortable position, she felt the undeniable motion of his chest hitching in a quiet sob. 

That was the last straw for her, emotionally. Letting out a wail, she clung into her brother’s arm, fingernails digging into his skin as tears cascaded down her face. Through it all, her brother held her tightly, his own tears falling off his face to land on her skin. With each impact, her own grief, her own anger magnified further until she was screaming incoherently, her teeth gnashing together as the hurt mocked her. 

Eventually, exhaustion won over everything else. Storms always wear themselves out and this was no different. Unable to produce anything more than an occasional hiccuping sob, she tried to meld herself into her brother, desperate to get away from the pain. At some point, Ignis and Prompto had quietly joined them. Ignis had pulled a chair over, or perhaps the chair had already been there, and was sitting quietly beside the bed. Her vision was too blurry to really make out much but it looked as though he hadn’t worn out his storm just yet. Prompto was sitting on the floor beside Gladio’s leg, one arm wound tightly around Gladio’s shin. She couldn’t see his face but his shoulders were still bobbing with the motion of his sobs. Gladio’s other hand, the one that wasn’t on her back, was resting on top of Prompto’s head, not stroking or really even moving but rather there just as a affirmation that he wasn’t alone. 

Sniffing, hardly able to think, she shifted slightly, managed to get one arm loose and reached out to gently wrap her finger’s around Ignis’s hand. He jumped a little at the sudden contact but seemed to immediately sense who it was as he quickly squeezed her hand in return. The room feel still, each either unable to think of anything to say or incapable of verbalizing anything. Even in those moments, she couldn’t wrap her head around him being gone. Noctis, the sleepy prince, the too be king, one of her closest and most cherished of friends....gone. 

It didn’t feel real. She was still convinced that it couldn’t be real. Even in those moments, she was sure that he would come sauntering into the room, one hand playing idly with his hair and give them a look that said ‘did you honestly think I’d go down this easy?’ before asking why they were crying. But it was fake, false, impossible - all she had to do was feel Gladio struggling so valiantly not to fall apart, see Prompto so empty and listless, feel the unmistakable tremor in Ignis’s hand. 

The line of Kings had ended. 

Noct was gone.


End file.
